Moonrise

Will you glimmer on the sea?
will you fling your spear-head
on the shore?
what note shall we pitch?
we have a song,
on the bank we share our arrows;
the loosed string tells our note:

O flight,
bring her swiftly to our song.
she is great,
we measure her by the pine trees.

_____
From Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, vol. 5, no. 6, March 1915.